


Don't Bring Girls into the Impala

by CosmicJ_Writing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Impala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicJ_Writing/pseuds/CosmicJ_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Death doesn't actually mean goodbye." After Dean's death, Sam finds comfort in booze and sex. Except he knows two things. 1) Winchesters don't rest for nothing. 2) Dean Winchester, did everything but rest, even after death. After a certain car manages to behead a vampire, all he can say is, "Welcome back Dean."<br/>But there's an end for everything, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Should've Listened

Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe he had no luck at all. Either way, what once was a simple vampire case, had turned into a bloody scene of Sam's brother and a get-away of a pissed off vamp.

"Damn it, Sam! Chill! The plan is simple. Hit up the place, roll some heads and get out of here." Dean shrugged his shoulder. To Sam, the whole thing didn't feel right. It felt like something bad was going to happen and his gut was telling him that. While he was trying to listen to what his gut had to say, it didn't mean Dean was willing to too. Damn his cocky brother. He knew Dean was smart, buts sometime his ego got ahead of him. Thinking back on it, Sam knew the whole time his brother's ego was going to get either one of them killed. In this case, Dean himself.

"Face it Dean, you have no real plan."

"Dude, we've already staked the place out. We've counted five vampires. We have a load of Dead Man's blood loaded in the trunk, and we've handled worse. What's got you so tense?" Dean tapped his thumb to some ACDC song that Sam barely recognized. "After this, I say we go to that burger joint we passed on the way, have a snack stop and fill up on gas before we get of here."

"Dean, you're not listening to me!" Sam groaned, rubbing his temples.

"I am listening, and all I'm hearing is unneeded paranoia. What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing." Sam huffed. He shook his head. "I just have a bad feeling about this."

They had parked the Impala in some bushes, much to Dean's dismay, but Sam's argument was if they needed a quick getaway the car would be there waiting for them. Dean pulled a syringe from his pocket, spinning his machete in his fingers. He jerked his head, giving Sam his cue. With quick, trained reflexes they decapitated the two lookout vampire's that were positioned in the front and back: A smaller in the front, the bigger and more brute one in the back.

Sam caught sight of three other vampires in a window. The rafters of the barn they nested in, seemed empty enough. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe this was going to be quick and easy, and Sam was just being paranoid. Luckily, the two of the three were sleeping together. The other was just throwing a rock.

They busted through the back door, Sam going straight for the rock throwing vamp. Dean went for the two girls curled up together. The brothers heard their hiss, scream, and the last _thunk_ when their heads started rolling. Sam watched his older brother lean down and pick up a bloody locket from the hay and dirt.

"Damn! Remember Kelly and Anna? The redheaded twins that were kidnapped when they were, like twelve or something. I think these chicks were them! Bastard must've kidnapped them, raised them, then changed them when they got older." Dean glared at the lopped of head of the stone throwing vampire.

"Well you were right. Easy-peasy." Sam flicked blood from his machete, turning for the front doors.

"Damn right. You are buying the biggest, fattiest burg- Damn it! Sam!"

Sam whirled, a flash of gold and white turning into the shape of blonde-headed girl in a white nightie. Her lips curled, her row of teeth extending.

"You killed my family!" She screeched. Dean's machete had clattered to the ground. The girl twisted Dean's arms behind him, probably popping his shoulders out of place. "You killed my family you bastards!"

"Hiding in the rafters." Dean chocked. The girl had tightened her arm around Dean's neck.

"You're Carrie, the girl kidnapped from her family when she was sixteen." Sam dropped his machete, holding his hands out in surrender.

"I wasn't kidnapped." She growled. "I ran away."

"You're parents were devastated." Sam reasoned. The girl laughed darkly.

"No they weren't. They were pissed because their play toy got away from them. Those assholes beat me! Wouldn't give me food for weeks! I had to scavenge for scraps! I had to eat the dog's food and drink from the dog's water bowl! The best thing I ever did was join Raven and his family! Raven loved me like his own! Taught me to be stronger, and you killed him!"

"Raven killed people, Carrie. I'm sorry. He was a monster, you have to understand that." Sam took cautious steps to his brother and the girl, but she backed as he did, making Dean wince with each jerk of his arms.

"You killed my family. You killed Raven." Carrie whispered, a tear falling over her right cheek. Sam reached out for her, but her face twisted in fury. "You killed my family! So I'm going to kill yours."

Carrie dragged her teeth across Deans' neck, biting a chunk out the side. Sam cried out, falling forward for his brother.

"No!" He scrambled, catching Dean around his waist and quickly lowering him to the ground. He snatched his brother's machete, swinging his arm, but the girl was already gone. Sam panted, his body shaking, only now just realizing how cold it was.

Dean's blood puddled around him, his green eyes glassy. Sam cupped the back of his neck, silent, as scream built in the back of his throat. He pressed his forehead to his older brother's , rocking back and forth. Of all the crap they dealt with, and Dean get's himself killed by a freaking vampire.

Sam drove the Impala into the barn, dragging out a bed sheet they kept for emergencies, out of trunk. He wrapped his brother in it, tying a rope around him and sliding his body in the backseat.

The morning after, Sam lowered his brother in dirt hole, not bothering to burn his body just in case his bother would surprise him again like last time.

"Damn you Dean. You should have listened to me to begin with."


	2. Squished Brains and Welcoming Parties

3 months later

Sam stumbled, he and his sexy hot bartender laughing as they fell into the door of his motel room. She giggled, trailing her fingers from his chest down to his abdomen. He hefted her thighs up around his waist, her legs wrapping around him.

After his brother's death, a little sex and a little alcohol become Sam's therapy. Except now, he was addicted to late nights at bars, and he couldn't help the teasing smiles he gave towards the girls. After Dean's death, Sam became him. He ate greasy burgers, and stayed up late as he followed Carries trail. Carrie was good at hiding, but Sam had been doing this way too long.

The bartender left around one, leaving Sam alone with thoughts. He slid out of bed, replacing his boxers, and pulling his jeans on. Carrie was also great at hiding her tracks. Sam had barely managed to find the next town she had moved on to. Of course she never stayed long. She stayed long enough to suck a cow dry, or a human if there weren't any big game. Then she'd move, with Sam barely grasping on to her trail.

Sam pinned a picture up on the board, and a newspaper clipping from yesterday's paper. A man had been reported missing, and then found floating in a river drained of blood. Sam ran his thumb over his bottom lip. A lot of the victims had been male. By physical appearance, all of them were had at least shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes. Looking in the mirror now, Sam realized Carrie was hunting men that looked a lot like himself.

The next morning, he got a call from the local police station about another vic, and this time they caught a suspect. Sam began packing, sliding syringes full of Dead Man's blood in his back pocket. He carefully strapped his machete close to his chest, loading his gun and pressing the safety. He just hoped Carrie would be locked in a cell. He was just waiting to snap his arm out, slice her head right off her shoulders. 

He buttoned his shirt, sliding his tie around his neck. He glanced in the mirror, looking back in the window. For a split second, he swore he saw his brother, just watching the window with his neck torn up and his hands in his pocket.

Sam whirled, only catching the slight flicker of something disappearing. He shook his head. He was being crazy.

The police station was busy, as expected. There's was also a certain mood to the atmosphere, like fear and fake bravery. He headed straight for the holding cells, wary eyes searching for his 'friend.' When he found Carrie, she was sitting on her bed, just glaring at the bars of her holding cell.

"I've been so good at keeping myself one step ahead, and I got myself caught by clueless cops." She spit, her eyes glaring a Sam's face. "Come to finish the job?"

"You killed my brother."

"And you killed the only family, I ever had." She wound her arms around her tiny waist. "Consider it pay back."

Sam scoffed, "He was the only family I had left. Only one of us is walking away, and you're the one in the cage."

"True but, you're on the other side. You have to come to me." She grinned, winking. Sam pulled the keys he snatched from an officer, and pulled a syringe from his back pocket.

"I brought you a snack." He said, unlocking the door of her holding cell. She coiled in a corner, wary of the Dead Man's blood he had waiting for her. "Here's the deal. You want out of here, and I'm giving you the door of opportunity. I'm going to kill you, but not here. So come with me, and maybe you'll manage to get away."

"You want me to gamble my life?"

"Essentially." Sam said, putting his hands behind his back. "Gamble. You have at least ninety percent chance of dying, and another ten percent of escaping. I'll even add something to the package. I won't touch you until we get far away from the station. I won't even tie you up."

That seemed to make the vampire relax. She was taking the bait. Sam reached, driving the needle into her neck and pushing the blood into her system. She hissed, tears springing up in her eyes. Sam dragged her, out the back exit. The Impala was parked in the back waiting for him.

When they got out outside, he shoved her. He kicked right her right knee, quickly pinning and wrestling her. She fought weakly. He slid his machete from his under his shirt, pressing it to her neck.

"You promised." She rasped.

"I lied. You just believed me."

On cue, the Impala roared, lights flashing in Sam's face. What the hell! Sam flinched, his hands shooting to cover his eyes. He reared upwards, getting to his feet and quickly lunging to the side. The Impala sped forward, a tire running directly over Carries head. Sam twisted, just enough to see his brother in the front seat with a sick grin on his bloody face. "You're welcome." He mouthed, before flickering and disappearing. Carries, head was flattened, her brains painting the concrete. Sam's seen a lot of gross things, but this was bad. His stomach flipped.

He sat down on the hood, cracking a beer. He patted the car underneath him.

"Welcome back Dean." He said. Dean flickered beside him, still a gory mess but visible. Sam shook his head. Dean Winchester was ghost. Dean was bloody ghost haunting the Impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've gotten a few kudos, which I hope means a good sign? Sorry this story is rough around the edges, but it's my first one on here. Constructive criticism is very much welcomed, and thank you for reading!


	3. You're Supposed to Say, "Bitch"

"What's being a ghost like?" Sam asked curiously, sitting cross-legged on the hood of the Impala. He sipped his beer. After the beheading of Carrie, he quickly got out of town, heading for the back roads.

"Not great. How many girls have you dragged onto the seats again?" Dean glared at his little brother, jerking his head a tiny bit causing the blood around his neck to slide down. Sam's face heated.

"So you can, but I can't?"

"I'm haunting this car. I see everything, and I certainly don't sleep. Plus, its my car not yours." Dean huffed. Sam observed his brother's face. He looked dead. Of course, what did he expect? Dean's eyes looked glazed over and lifeless, sunken into the pits of his skull. The chunk Carrie bit out of his neck continuously dripped of blood. It was unnerving. If Sam was anyone else, he probably would be screaming like a little kid with the fear of the closet.

"You're dead. Technically its my car, Dean."

"Your car my ass." Dean scowled, shifting his hand on the hood, and sliding them upwards. "My Baby, until the day the world ends, and even then she's mine." Sam rolled his eyes.

"So what's the news in the ghostly world?" Sam asked. 

"Say that again and I'll hurt you. Nothing so far. Some show up, asking where they are. It gets old sometimes. I did meet this one hot bartender." Dean grinned. Even in death, Dean was the same. "Unfortunately, I can't feel anything." Sam's nose scrunched.

"You know, if you're a ghost, what happened to your reaper?" Sam asked. Dean's face, despite looking dead, seemed to fall. He looked as if he'd rather talk about anything other then the reaper.

"Never showed up. Guess I wasn't on the list." Dean grumbled. He was lying, Sam knew he was. He wondered what happened after Carrie killed him. "Hurry up. We need to get going."

"Dean-" Sam reached out for his older brother, but Dean flickered and smoked out.

They finished two cases after Carrie, Dean helping as much as he can. He still struggled picking up objects. Sometimes he'd be able to hold a handful of papers for a few minutes, before they fluttered from his fingers and to the floor of the Impala. He'd get pissed, kicking his feet and smacking his hands down into the dash. He'd be attempting to drink his beer, and right before the can pressed to his lips, it fall. His face would draw up, the ground seeming to die around him. Sam never would admit it, but Dean was terrifying him.

Six months after the beheading of Carrie, Dean snapped. Some high school kid got too close to Impala one day, while Sam was out on a hunt. When Sam came back, Dean had the kid pressed up against a wall, with a fist aimed for his face. Sam dropped his stuff, running for the trunk and yanking out the shot gun.

"Dean! Stop!" Sam ordered, aiming the salt round filled shot gun at his brother. "Stop." Dean breathed hard, his body radiating death and fury. He dropped his fist, and the kid, looking at his brother with one last glance before he flickered and disappeared. Sam dropped his face, rubbing his face. Damn it. The same thing that happened to Bobby, was happening to Dean. 

"Why not you take a vacation, cool off." Sam said, sliding into the Impala. He glanced in the mirror, looking at his brother who just leaned his head into the back window.

"Where ever the car is, I'll be. I can't leave." Dean muttered.

"Yes, but I could leave the car." Sam offered, his eyes falling to the hands in his lap.

"If you're thinking about dropping me, you're wrong." Dean glared viciously in the mirror. When the mirror cracked, Sam jumped. He whirled, stretching around to see his brother but he was already gone.

"Jerk." He muttered. A part of him waited for a 'Bitch' to follow, but Dean said nothing, reminding Sam that things were different.


	4. Goodnight

Sometimes Dean locked the doors after Sam slid out of the Impala, sometimes the mirror moved in the same position it once had when Dean drove before Carrie. Sam knew his brother jumped into the driver's seat and pretended he was out on the road again. Sam jumped awake one night, clutching his gun to his chest and sitting up. No one was in the front seat when the Impala's music turned on. 

"Dean."

"Morning Sammy!" 

"Jerk." He groaned, curling back into the leather seats. Dean never responded, reminding Sam that Dean was actually dead and things actually changed. With Dean's presence around, it was hard to forget that Sam would never get to hug it out with his brother, or sit out and have beers. Their arguments were different too. Sam didn't dare start them, not wanting to piss Dean off. Unfortunately, the arguing started to become more and more frequent. 

Sometimes it was over cases, sometimes family, mostly Dean himself. Sam asked him what happened with his Reaper and Dean would shut him down. Sam pushed though. Dean snapped at him, shoving his hands forward and shoving Sam in his chest. The air in his lungs whooshed out. Sam felt like he'd been slammed in the chest by a freight train.

"Sammy, I didn't mean to!" Dean swore, his figure disappearing. Sam coughed, working the door open and sliding out of the car. 

When he finally regained his composure Sam finally said it. "Dean it's time." He sounded empty, kind of broken. He felt broken. He was losing his brother. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes burning. No, he wasn't losing his brother because he'd already lost him. He was dead and that was the problem. Neither one of them was letting go. "Dean I can burn your body."

"No! I'm not leaving you! I stayed, for you." Dean's feet made an appeared in front of Sam, causing the younger brother to look up. Dean was angry, he was so angry and you could see the restrained anger on his face. Sam got to his feet, turning his back to his brother and getting in before he could lock the door.

Once the Impala's engine began to purr, Dean didn't move to stop him. He just sat in the passenger seat, crest fallen. Sam drove for four days, not bothering to stop for sleep. He was running on caffeine, drinking sodas, coffee, even the 5-hour energy stuff. He ate granola bars, and packages of trail mix, eyes focusing on the road ahead. The Impala stayed quiet, and Dean never made an entrance.

Sam stared at the body wrapped in a bloody bed sheet, tears running in a race down his cheeks. He doused Dean's body in gasoline, rubbing his hand across his sweaty brow. 

Dean's ghost walked to the other side of the grave, sunken eyes never leaving his younger brother's face. He didn't bother, appearing for Sam. It wouldn't do any good. He watched Sam's face as he flicked his lighter.

"Dean," Sam began. Dean didn't bother listening. Sam dropped the lighter and automatically Dean felt like he was on fire. 

"Goodnight Sammy." He whispered, pain burning up in his chest. "Goodnight little brother."

When Sam slid into the Impala, he could breathe. It wasn't stuffy or crowded feeling. It was light, it was empty, just like it was before Dean died.


End file.
